


King Maxi and Marriage Politics of the Twenty-First Century

by RuanChunXian



Category: Cabin Pressure
Genre: F/M, Humour, MJN family, silly fluff, unbetaed banter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-08
Updated: 2015-04-08
Packaged: 2018-03-21 22:13:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,486
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3706061
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RuanChunXian/pseuds/RuanChunXian
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>King Maxi has it all planned out. Among the young royals of Europe, he knows exactly who he wants to be his bride.</p>
            </blockquote>





	King Maxi and Marriage Politics of the Twenty-First Century

**Author's Note:**

> Quite spur-of-the-moment fic, written when I was doing something completely different. Shameless fluff.

“Must you marry a commoner, Theresa? Yellow car.”

“Yes, Maxi, I must,” Theresa said in a bored voice, for what was probably the thousandth time.

Martin, next to her, simply sighed.

This car ride could not be over soon enough.

The day before, in fact, had been the absolutely overwhelming party at Vaduz Castle, celebrating the engagement of one Princess Theresa Gustafa Bonaventura of Liechtenstein, Countess of Spondheim, to Mr Martin Crieff, Esq.

Now, they were all crammed in a limousine (yes, such thing was possible, and doubly so when Arthur was involved) to Zurich, taking Martin back to his Swiss Air job, which Theresa threatened to break up with him if he ever thought about giving it up for her, and Carolyn, Douglas, Arthur and Herc to GERTI, which was also parked in a Zurich private airfield. (They could afford that now.)

Maxi decided to tag along, because Arthur needed someone to play Yellow Car with.

Of course, the King claimed that he needed to keep an eye on Theresa, in case she eloped.

Sometimes, Martin thought perhaps he should give that idea a serious thought.

Theresa’s sisters liked him well enough, but he still wasn’t sure the fact that his future mother-in-law had stopped looking at him like he was the devil incarnate and crossing herself was supposed to be an improvement.

As for Maxi, the King made his opinion very clear. Even when no one wanted to hear it.

“I mean, I _like you, Martin,_ but you’re – “

“ – a commoner, as you have observed before; it is duly noted and consider your input ignored,” Marin said, equally bored.

Maxi glared. Martin smiled. Maxi pouted.

They had lathered, rinsed and repeated this so many times that it was impossible for even Martin to miss that this was nothing personal.

It really _wasn’t._ And that was the most exasperating thing.

“For Heaven’s sake, Maxi, this conversation has to _stop,”_ Theresa said impatiently, when her brother opened his mouth to speak again. “Even if because it’s rude for you to carry on like this in front of Martin. Whom you _like_. Even at your age you’re old enough to know I’ll be happier with him than I would ever be if I managed to snatch Harry of Wales!”

“You can’t marry Harry of Wales; he’s not Catholic, and he won’t be – green truck – allowed to convert!”

“Again, for the thousandth time on another issue, Martin is not going to convert to Catholicism either!”

Martin suddenly felt guilty and interrupted, “I _can,_ if you need – yellow car.” (Why was he even playing?)           

“Nonsense, Martin,” Theresa said. “It’s no matter. Honestly, if marrying you as a non-Catholic gets me off the line of succession, then all the more bonus for me!”

“But still – “ Maxi continued to whine.

“Maximilian, you have six sisters, and you clearly want all of us to marry royals. Where do you imagine you will dig up that many single princes of suitable age for us, not even counting personal compatibility?” Theresa demanded.

Maxi glowered.

Douglas chose this moment to enter the conversation. “They _are_ all rather too old, too young or too married, aren’t they? Princes of Europe? I don’t know whether to call Harry a lucky little bugger or a sorry bastard, having his pick of the Liechtenstein princesses if he so desires. Then again, he’s more partial to blondes, and none of you are.”

“The age of all of Europe intermarrying and being related to each other in one massive inbred happy-or-not-is-debatable family is long over,” Theresa said. “Really, Maxi, you are supposed to represent the new generation, not stick to the dusty old customs.”

“The very foundation of the monarchy is built on customs,” Maxi said importantly, and it was very obvious that he was quoting some equally dusty old book or dusty old man. “We have nothing if not traditions.”

Theresa rolled her eyes.

“Would marrying Martin really take you out of the succession, Theresa?” Herc asked curiously.

“Well, technically I’m not _in_ the succession in the first place. It is the reason Maxi has six sisters.”

Carolyn wrinkled her nose in distaste. “Really? Princesses cannot inherit the throne in Liechtenstein? How very quaint.”

“By ‘quaint’, do you mean ‘backward’, oh lady feminist?” Douglas asked.

“Be quiet, Douglas. Smirk all you want, but it is quite offensive!”

“Well, when absolutely lacking all other alternatives, we must,” Theresa explained. “But as I mentioned before, failure was not in my father’s vocabulary.”

“Are you sure you are living in 21st century Europe?” Douglas asked. “There must be pressure from, oh, I don’t know, _somewhere_ , to becoming more modern? Even ye olde England has passed laws for absolute primogeniture, even if it ended up being completely unnecessary, what with the highly anticipated royal baby being male and thus slowly turning the Windsors into wizards.”

“Wizards?” Carolyn asked, looking at Douglas as if he’d grown another head. “What do you mean?”

“Oh, you know, Charles, William, George. They’re all a bit Weasley-esque, don’t you think?”

“Ooh - yellow car - and there’s Harry!” Arthur pointed out gleefully.

“Yes, ironically the only one with red hair,” Douglas said. He eyed Martin’s ruddy locks and added with a smirk, “Thank god J. K. Rowling never thought to name any of her Weasleys Martin, Martin, or I’d recommend you marry into _our_ royal family instead of some foreign one.”

“I’m not marrying into some royal family for the sake of it, Douglas!” Martin said, mildly irritated. “I’m marrying Theresa.”

“Admirable sentiment,” his former First Officer replied. “Something for you to pat yourself on the back on when you’re sleeping in a castle, I’m sure.”

“I rather think it is admirable, actually,” Herc said. “Then I am an incorrigible old romantic.”

“Thank you, Herc,” Martin said.

“And if I get any say, we won’t be living in the castle,” Theresa said. “There is surprisingly little privacy to be had even in a large castle when you’re living with your mother and six siblings.”

“I wouldn’t know, not being frequent resident of a castle of any size whatsoever,” Douglas said.

“Well, there is no privacy. So no, we will not be living in the castle.”

“So where will you live?” Carolyn asked.

“Well, I still want to stay with Swiss Air, so all things considered, Zurich might still be the plan,” Martin said. “In a – a slight larger place, of course.”

“I suppose they would let you move out, if you’re not long in line for the throne?” Carolyn asked. “Though I still am quite miffed about that.”

“Well, to be honest, what with after Maxi there are still very limited number of male heirs, Liechtenstein will have to consider more gender-equal laws of succession soon,” Theresa said. “But I doubt it would apply to our generation. Most probably the next.”

“But the next generation will be a long time coming, would it not?” Herc asked, looking at the eleven-year-old Maxi.

“Quite, but changing laws and constitution can take a long time. We have to give politicians something to do, after all.”

“They should turn more of their efforts to the borders and stop Switzerland from invading us all the time,” Maxi said petulantly. It made Theresa laugh, though her brother wasn’t entirely without point this time.

“Switzerland only accidentally invades once every couple of decades, Maxi. No harm, no foul,” she said.

“How do you accidentally invade a country?” Arthur wondered. “Though that does sound brilliant! Scary, but brilliant!”

“The Swiss have a habit of wandering the Alps with their infantry and they’d often take wrong turns and suddenly find themselves in Liechtenstein without any knowledge of how they got there,” Theresa said, giggling. “Every time they do that we get a very nice email apologising. Once, they accidentally fired a rocket at us and paid us handsomely for burning some of our trees.”

“Hmm…you’re practically Swiss now, Martin, are you sure _you_ weren’t the _Commander in Chief_ leading these accidental invasions?” Douglas asked.

“Shut up, Douglas.”

Thankfully, he did, to Martin, at least. To Theresa, Douglas added, “I’m not usually one to stand in the path of true love, but really, Theresa, if someone told me marrying someone would rob me of an inheritance, I admit I’d…reconsider…”

“And that, Douglas, is the reason why you’re thrice divorced,” Martin said.

He merely waved his hand nonchalantly. “Perhaps, perhaps. But you misunderstand me, I’d reconsider how to both get the girl – or _Captain,_ as is your case here, Theresa – and the inheritance.”

“Even you, Douglas, cannot con your way around a national constitution,” Carolyn said.

Before Douglas could argue all the ways he _could,_ Theresa spoke. “I still get my _inheritance,_ I just won’t be in line for the throne. Which, you know, realistically I’m not anyway. I hope none of my sisters will ever seriously get to sit on the throne, considering what will have to happen first for that to come about.”

“But of course,” Douglas said. “Never mind, then.”

There was a beat of silence, which was broken by the King himself.

“When _I_ marry, I will only marry a royal princess,” Maxi announced.

“Oh?” Herc asked. “Which one?”

“You do have your pick, Maxi. There is no shortage of princesses your age,” Douglas said.

“He will have to avoid the heiresses apparent, or potential heiresses apparent, to avoid conflict of interests later, so out are Amalia of the Netherlands, Leonor of Spain, Elisabeth of Belgium, Ingrid of Norway and Estelle of Sweden,” Theresa said with an absolute straight face, but the following eye-roll told all what she thought about the list of potential royal brides her brother had laid out for himself. “And of course, she will have to be Catholic.”

“I take back what I said about there being no shortage,” Douglas said slowly. “ _Are_ there any princesses in Europe currently fitting those criteria? I was under the impression most of them are some form of not-Catholic.”

“There is. One,” Theresa said, smiling sweetly at her brother. “Leonor’s sister, the Infanta Sofia.”

“I’m going to start learning Spanish next term,” Maxi said, not catching on to his sister’s mocking tone at all.

Theresa pressed her lips together to stop laughing. Martin and Herc smiled fondly. Carolyn snorted.

“To woo the Infanta?” Douglas asked dryly.

“Oh that’s brilliant, Maxi!” Arthur said.

“And will you marry when she turns sixteen? Will the Infanta brave the snowy caps of Mount Alps to travel to Vaduz to be your bride, as young Catalina once crossed the treacherous North Sea to marry Arthur, Prince of Wales?” Douglas asked.

“Yes, she certainly would!” Maxi replied. “Yellow car.”

Herc choked and started coughing into the water bottle he previously was drinking from.

“Douglas is joking, Maxi,” Martin said exasperatedly, glaring at the older pilot. “Even if you are to marry her, no one braves anything natural in this day and age.”

“Not when Maxi’s getting a pilot for a brother-in-law,” Herc pointed out, recovering from his coughing fit.

“There’s no Arthur, Prince of Wales!” Three guesses as to who said that, ten seconds too late to turn it into a timely response. “The Prince of Wales’ name is Charles! Douglas, if you’re making fun – “

“For once, Arthur, Douglas was _not_ poking fun _at you,”_ Carolyn said quickly, before Douglas could _actually start doing just that._ “Of course the _current_ Prince of Wales is not named Arthur – that would put a disturbing spin on why I named you that – but there was once a Prince of Wales named Arthur.”

“Oh,” Arthur said lamely. “Then why was Douglas joking about that? Why shouldn’t the – the – yellow car – what was that word, Douglas? Infant? - “

“ _Infanta,_ dear,” Carolyn said. “It’s the Spanish title for a princess.”

“Oh. Well. Yeah, that. Her. Why shouldn’t she brave the Alps and whatever? She would have to get to Vaduz to marry Maxi, right?”

“Do you know what happened to Arthur, Prince of Wales, Arthur?” Martin asked, very patiently, if he did say so himself.

“No.”

“For example, why he’s still referred to as _Arthur, Prince of Wales,_ and not _Arthur, King of England?”_

_“_ Or Steward of the Aeroplane?” Douglas muttered under his breath.

“What happened?”

Everyone except Maxi looked at each other, no one really wanting to give this particular history lesson to Arthur.

“Let’s just say he didn’t become king and we got Hal the Eighth instead,” Carolyn said. “We wouldn’t want to wish the same fate on Maxi.”

“But Maxi’s already King!” Arthur argued.

“Oh dear Lord, help me,” Carolyn said through a harsh breath. “Someone wrap this up, please.”

“Arthur, Maxi is _not_ going to marry the Princess of Spain,” Theresa said firmly.

“Well, not yet,” Maxi said, puckering out his bottom lip. “She has to fall in love with me first.”

“Thus the need for learning Spanish to woo her, I see,” Douglas nodded knowingly. “A solid plan, Your Majesty, and that is a compliment indeed, from me.”

“Don’t encourage him, Douglas,” Theresa groaned. “Sofia is seven years old.”

“Half way to a marriageable age by the standards – “

“Douglas!”

Turning to her brother, Theresa said sternly, “Maxi, you do seriously know that you can’t just decide to marry someone before you have even met her, and definitely before she had expressed an opinion on the matter, right?”

“That’s why I’m learning Spanish, _to ask her,_ ” Maxi insisted stubbornly. “Either way, I shall marry a princess!”

Theresa heaved an enormous sigh, but didn't press the point, knowing better than to argue with Maxi when he started to act like this. He would grow out of it. Eventually. She hoped.

“Well, he does at least know that a gentleman always asks, Theresa,” Herc said with a smile. “That’s a good place to start.”

“He _should_ know that, with six sisters,” Carolyn said, and shared a look of understanding with Theresa.

The conversation came to a stop here, as the car also halted, signaling they have arrived at the airfield where they were dropping off the OSJ crew.

As she opened the limo door to get out, Theresa turned back over her shoulder and added nonchalantly to her brother, “Oh Maxi, if it bothers you so much that Martin is a commoner, give him a title. It worked for Sweden. It should be good enough for us, too.” Her tone turned suddenly threatening. "And that will be the last I will ever hear of this matter."

Maxi stuck his tongue out, but even the King of Liechtenstein knew when his sister was not to be argued with, and to meekly obey. Of course, it must be said that he out later that it was much more fun to give Martin a title then threaten to take it away. After all, his sister was right, what was more proof of his power as King than the ability to fix this shameful lack of title in the first place?

**Author's Note:**

> I cannot take credit for all the jokes in this story. The "British royals becoming Weasleys" is from a Tumblr post. Also, Switzerland does have an actual habit of [accidentally invading Liechtenstein](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Liechtenstein%E2%80%93Switzerland_relations).


End file.
